Come Home
by BrightlyBeaming
Summary: Takes place mid Season 9. Dean and Sam still haven't mended their relationship, and Cas has skipped town and is ignoring Dean's prayers. Fortunately, a month or two with his ear to the ground has proven fruitful for Dean. A one-shot. I love reviews.


Dean slowed the Impala and stared at the aged souvenir shop. The plexiglass windows were cloudy with age, and the door was a faded and peeling color, which Dean hoped had once been red. He parked the car in the shade of an overly large olive tree, thankful it was March and the tree had not yet begun to grow any fruit with which to pummel his baby.

The shop was large and stocked with ridiculous magnets, kitschy ceramics, and oversized T-shirts. Dean paused to smirk at a maternity shirt that said BAD ASS MOTHER TRUCKER. A young girl poked into view, "That's a popular shirt." She lifted a flap in the front and said, "It's for breast feeding."

Dean nodded stiffly, "Yeah, clever AND kid friendly. Imagine that." He cleared his throat, "But, no, I'll have to pass." He patted his own chest with a wink, "Just finished weaning."

The girl laughed and said, "I can help you if you're looking for something else. Keychains? Sunglasses?"

He glanced around, "Actually, do you happen to have a guy working here?" He held his hand up, "Yea tall, dark hair, blue eyes, looks like someone stole his wallet?"

A look dawned on her face of both surprise and mild disappointment, "Vince." She pointed to the back with a hint of resignation, "He works the back half of the shop."

Dean thanked the girl and turned to wind his way through the rows of road trip kits, glancing back when the girl sighed something about it always being the cute ones. He halted when he came around the corner and saw Cas behind the register counter. Cas was glaring heavily at Dean, and Dean found the happy attitude he had intended to project had vanished and left him feeling unsheltered and shaky. He walked slowly to Cas, fishing his hands into his pockets, attempting bravado, "So, what, you gonna go get the most run down jobs you can every time you leave the bunker?"

Cas jerked his gaze to the side in irritation, then walked from behind the register and began to reorganize a display of flashlights. Dean followed after him, "Sorry, man, I didn't mean it like that."

Cas continued to ignore him, as he pulled a selection of purple flashlights from a sign marked GOLD. Dean said, "I've been praying every night, Cas, I know you can hear me."

Cas said nothing.

"I know you're pissed, and, hey, I deserve it, I know I'm a crappy friend. But, man, I need you."

Cas looked at Dean, "Is Sam in trouble?"

Dean blinked in surprise, "No."

"Is there a job in the area?"

"What, middle of nowhere Illinois? No."

"Perhaps you're planning to challenge Abaddon and are hoping to make use of my strength."

"No! Cas, I'm not here cause I need you to fight! I need my friend!"

Cas stared at him, then returned to the flashlights, stringing the purple ones under the correct label, "You and Sam are still fighting, aren't you?"

Dean felt the muscles in his neck constrict tightly, "If by fighting, you mean, are we working like professionals? Yeah. We're real professional."

Cas paused again, "Do you need me to mediate?"

Dean sighed, "No. I-" he felt like the store must be filled with hundreds of listening ears, so his voice fell quiet, "-I miss you. I want you to come back."

Cas turned from the flashlights, narrowing his eyes at Dean, "And what happens when Sam forgives you? What happens then? Do we go back to you not wondering-not caring-where I am, and me filling my time with run down, middle of nowhere jobs as I avoid the angels that want me to lead them in my own faction? Back to 'Cas who' until you're in trouble again? I will always be there for you when you need me, Dean, even as angry as I am now. If you were in danger, I would come. But I don't want to be put on a shelf when I'm not useful. I want to be missed when you don't need me."

Cas's anger was vibrant but so was his hurt. Dean felt shame for not understanding what Cas had been thinking. "Cas, I always thought that you didn't stick around because you were busy."

Cas held his hands up and tilted his head, "Very busy."

"I assumed you would have stayed with us if you wanted to. You've never hesitated to do whatever else you wanted. I thought you didn't want to stick around."

"Dean, I have told you before, I would much rather be with you than anywhere else."

Dean rubbed his neck, "Yeah, but you didn't. You still left. You only came when we called or if you needed us." His neck felt hot under his hand, and a bubble of frustration popped in his chest, "Hell, even Crowley sticks around for a drink after working together!"

A vicious glare swallowed the signs of Cas's hurt, and he cast his gaze off to the side. Dean smacked a pair of fuzzy dice, sending it bouncing across the shop. "Dammit, I didn't come here to fight with you. I don't have many people left, Cas, it's pretty much you and Sammy. And I know I screw everything up-I let Kevin die when he wanted to live, and made Sammy live when he wanted to die, and then I treated you like crap-but if I even have a chance of patching things up with you, then I'll do whatever it takes to get you home, man."

Cas turned from the flashlights and returned to the register, Dean trailing after him. Dean leaned over the counter, "You can ride shotgun, even when Sammy's in the car. You can have your own room. We'll watch movies every night, get you filled in on references!" Cas didn't respond, so Dean desperately went on, "You can-you can have the coldest beer, every time."

"I don't eat, Dean," Cas sighed.

Dean was serious and intent, "Well it's still yours and no one else will drink it."

"I only want one thing, Dean."

Dean swiped his hands in front of him, "Anything. I don't care who I have to gank, it's yours."

Cas had come around the counter with angelic speed and shoved Dean against it. Dean lost his balance, but caught himself on the counters edge with one hand and his elbow. Before he could recover himself, Cas had gripped his face, much as one grips the face of a child that needs scolding. Cas's hand supported his weight as he leaned on the counter and over Dean, "Stop. Talking."

Cas's eyes were cast in a shadow that had Dean was worried that Cas was too angry, that Dean had ruined this relationship too. But Cas forced Dean's face up and kissed him. It was a long kiss, and Dean's jaw began to ache from the merciless grip long before Cas pulled away. Dean stared up at Cas, wide eyed and surprised, his brain still trying to adjust the sudden turn the world had taken.

The word slipped from Dean's mouth like bubbles, "Ok."

A determined look settled on Cas's face, and with his free hand, he pulled Dean up by the front of his shirt. Dean sputtered, "Just so we're clear, you mean-" No sooner had Dean found his footing, when the flapping sound of wings filled his ears, the souvenir shop flickered out of view, and they were suddenly in Dean's room. "-me."

Cas released Dean with a light shove, "Yes, Dean." He flung his arm out and the door slammed and locked. "I mean you and me."

Dean's heart was beating so hard, he feared it might actually hurt itself. "So all this time you were pissed...?"

Cas's hands balled up into fists at his side, "...Was because we weren't 'allowed' to talk about this thing that we both know is there while you kept me at arms length. Dean, I wouldn't topple the hierarchy of heaven, drive myself insane, or cast myself into the cruel jaws of the world as an inexperienced human for the happiness of a mere friend-a terrible friend, at that."

"Yeah, I know."

Cas seemed to clam up, and he swallowed nervously. His eyes lost the rage and became the needy puppy that Dean knew all too well. "I will not ask you to do something you don't want to do."

Dean said, "But what do you want, Cas? I mean, you wanna be my boyfriend? Do you just wanna screw? We can do that." He glanced at his bed and huffed a laugh, "There's a bed."

"Dean, please. I'm being serious."

"Cas, you kissed me. I know you're being serious."

"Am I the only one who desires this connection? Do you even want me? I'll still come back. I'll take my own room. And movies. I'm sure I'll get used to drinking beer, even though it doesn't taste the same."

"Cas.." Dean realized he was failing Cas again. He shrugged the leather jacket off and tossed it onto the chair by his desk. He walked to Cas, just a few steps, and wrapped a hand around the back of Cas's head. His hair was short and soft, very different from the usual long locks Dean would tangle his hands in, and Dean paused to take that in. Then he kissed Cas. The kiss in the shop had been a shock, and Dean had been distracted by trying to process what it meant, as well as trying to maintain physical equilibrium. This was the kind of kiss he had wanted from Cas. Undisturbed, free, and reciprocated. Cas's lips were chapped and his perpetual 5 o'clock shadow created friction with Dean's, but Dean sighed with a wish finally fulfilled.

Dean pulled back a few inches and his eyes met Cas's, "It's all here for you, man."

Cas grabbed Dean by the shirt again, and forced him onto the bed, and Dean pulled Cas along with him. Cas hovered over Dean's mouth for a moment, smiling, before kissing him. Dean swiftly worked the buttons of Cas's flannel shirt-he liked that Cas had started wearing civilian clothes-and as soon as the last one was undone, he yanked it off, and Dean's hand slid to Cas's back as they kissed more deeply. Dean propelled them to one side, rolling them over, and sat up, straddling Cas. He pulled his layered shirts off, and grinned, "Welcome home, Cas."

Cas smiled, a rare and genuine thing and flung his arms out across the bed, taking in the moment, "I am glad to be here."

Dean placed his hands on the bed beside Cas and lowered himself down into another kiss. Cas pushed away suddenly, "We should get your car."

Dean nodded, as he slid his hands under Cas's back, and pressed their bodies together, "Later."


End file.
